The Blue Moon

by Lorena McCourtney

  “Yes, that's so odd. Especially since it looks quite valuable,” Abby repeated.

  “A sapphire, perhaps? Although . . .” Hugo tilted his head, his expression speculative.

  “The smaller stones look as if they could be diamonds,” Abby offered. She smiled. “Not that I’m all that knowledgeable about gems.”

  “Neither am I, but they do look like diamonds,” Hugo agreed. “And it's a beautifully crafted piece of jewelry, that's for certain. Wonderful workmanship and remarkable styling, very distinctive. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “If it was really a valuable piece of jewelry, which it certainly would be if the blue stone was a sapphire and the other stones real diamonds, surely someone would have come to retrieve it. He—”

  “Or she,” Abby interjected.

  Hugo nodded. “Yes, or she. But surely he or she wouldn't hide it in the desk and then just abandon or forget it if it was valuable.”

  “Although it seems odd someone hasn't come looking for it even if it isn’t highly valuable. It's a beautiful piece of jewelry. Claudia must have been someone special to this person.”

  “Still, I think it's much more likely an excellent piece of costume jewelry. The clear stones are probably cubic zirconia or some other material rather than real diamonds, and the blue stone is most likely glass or some other material rather than real sapphire.”

  Hugo set the necklace back in the box. His gesture was dismissive, as if this was the extent of his involvement. Abby was surprised. She’d expected him to be as excited and curious as she was about this strange find. He obviously had other things on his mind.

  “What should we do with it?” she asked.

  “We should try to find the owner, of course. Perhaps you could talk to Sergeant Cobb at the sheriff's substation. He might have a report about a missing necklace.”

  “Perhaps even a stolen one,” Abby suggested thoughtfully.

  Hugo looked surprised at that suggestion, but he nodded. “Yes, I suppose that's a possibility. Again, Sergeant Cobb may have information. And there must be rules and regulations about what has to be done with found objects and how to locate an owner. Or you might talk to Gordon Siebert down at the jewelry store. Perhaps the necklace was purchased there and he’d recognize it. He has some excellent costume jewelry along with real gems.”

  Hugo's phone rang, and with the intuitive knowledge that he didn't want to answer it while she was present, Abby hastily stood up.

  Hugo pushed the box toward her with one hand and reached for the phone with the other. “Would you close the door on your way out, please?”

  Abby must have looked startled at his abruptness, because he gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to sound so rude. I’m just a little …preoccupied about something that's come up.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks, no.”

  Abby picked up the box and closed Hugo's door behind her. Back in her own office she shut her eyes for a moment and offered a quick prayer for whatever was troubling Hugo. In spite of his protestations that everything was fine, she was certain something was definitely wrong.

  Then she opened the box and studied the necklace, again amazed at its dazzling beauty. If it were a beautiful blue feather the situation would be different, she thought wryly. She’d have it classified and identified in no time. But gems were far out of her area of expertise.

  Okay, Hugo had suggested she contact Sergeant Cobb, so that's what she would do. She always thought of the officer as Henry rather than the more formal Sergeant Cobb. He was often at the house she and her sister Mary shared, and she and Henry had worked together occasionally to resolve various situations on the island. In old-fashioned terms, Henry was “courting” Mary, although she doubted Mary thought of the relationship in exactly that way. She dialed the substation's number.

  “Sergeant Cobb, please,” she told the woman who answered, a woman new to the office whom she didn't know.

  “I’m sorry. Sergeant Cobb is out on a call right now. I’m afraid he won't be back for some time, but I can reach him if it's an emergency.”

  “No, no emergency. I’ll talk to him later.” He might, in fact, be coming to the house for dinner. Abby decided she could show him the necklace and talk to him then.

  She tucked the silver and blue box in a newly organized drawer, swiveled the chair to face her computer and got back to work. It took some time on the Internet, but she finally located the out-of-print book on ornithopters at a used book site and ordered it. Then she read and answered her e-mail, worked on a grant application and dusted the rocks and shells on a wall shelf.

  But all the time what her mind was really on was that necklace in her drawer. Who had so carefully hidden it in the desk? Who was Claudia? Why had no one ever come to retrieve the necklace?

  On impulse she made a quick decision. The wall clock showed a few minutes past four o’clock. She hadn't seen Hugo leave, but he could have gone out the back door. She found a plastic sack, tucked the box into it and grabbed her jacket from the coatrack in the corner. With a glance at the rain now falling outside her office window, she also picked up her red umbrella gaily emblazoned with hummingbirds, a gift from Mary.

  On her way out, Ida called to her from the reception desk. “Did you find out anything more from Mr. Baron about the necklace?”

  The museum was almost empty. Only one couple stood beside the Mount Saint Helens exhibit of volcanic activity. Yet they turned when Ida spoke, as if the word necklace had sparked their interest.

  Abby stepped closer to the desk before answering Ida's question. “No. Hugo had never seen it before and has no idea who Claudia is.”

  “How strange. I could ask around at the café and see if anyone knows someone by that name.”

  “No, please don’t,” Abby said quickly. She wasn't certain exactly why, except that the box in the plastic sack at her side seemed to be growing more mysterious by the minute. She thought a moment, then backtracked. “What I mean is, yes, it would be fine to ask about a Claudia. Do that. We need to know if there's someone around here by that name. But I think it would be better if the necklace wasn't mentioned to anyone just yet. Okay?”

  “Oh well, sure, if you don't want me to.” Ida sounded puzzled but offered no argument. “I suppose someone who doesn't really own the necklace might try to claim it if they heard about it.”

  Actually, Abby hadn't thought through her reasoning on not mentioning the necklace to anyone, but Ida had made an excellent point. “Exactly,” she said. “We don't want to get a lot of gossip and speculation started.”

  Ida smiled, a lively spark in her eyes. “Speculation and gossip about a secret admirer leaving a beautiful, expensive gift in your desk?”

  “The gift is for someone named Claudia. That's why you’re going to find out if anyone knows a Claudia on the island.”

  Ida smiled and waved the name off as a technicality. Abby wanted to be annoyed with her, but she couldn’t. Ida's parents had died when she was only seventeen. Now, at twenty-four, she was a sweet young woman, an enthusiastic new Christian and a good worker. So instead Abby offered a tease of her own. “I’m sure people would be much more interested in hearing about a budding romance between a certain young woman here at the museum and a certain young man at the hardware store, than in some older woman's nonexistent secret admirer.”

  “You wouldn't tell—” A blush quickly followed Ida's gasp at the mention of her tentative relationship with Aaron Holloway, grandson of the longtime owner of Holloway's Hardware. He’d been interested in her for quite some time now, but only recently had she showed signs of returning that interest, and she was still being a bit secretive about it. Although Ida should know by now, Abby thought, that secrets seldom lasted long on Sparrow Island.

  “Wouldn't I?” Abby teased further.

  “Okay,” Ida agreed, “It's probably a good idea not to mention the necklace or a secret admirer to anyone.�
�

  Abby smiled at the unspoken agreement within Ida's statement. Ida wouldn't mention the necklace or secret admirer; Abby wouldn't mention anything about Ida and Aaron's budding relationship.

  “Will you be coming back today?” Ida asked.

  “Probably not. Although if I have time after I run this errand, I may come back to the lab in the conservatory building. I need to do some cleanup work there too.”

  Abby opened her umbrella as she dashed from the museum steps to her car. The rain wasn't a heavy downpour, but it had a here-to-stay feel. The weather had been wonderful all fall, remarkably warm and clear, but it looked as if winter rains might be settling in now. Wind had blown most of the colorful leaves off the big maple in the landscaped area in front of the museum. Abby didn't mind the change in weather. She loved the fresh scent of rain mixed with whiffs of cedar and fir, and the salt, fish and seaweed tang of sea, the cozy crackle of a fireplace and a cup of hot chocolate on a rainy evening. The wind had picked up, and the ever-changeable sea off Sparrow Island was storm-gray now, rough with whitecaps. She could hear waves crashing against the rocky shore beyond the trees.

  She passed her parents’ farm on the drive into Green Harbor, but she didn't see anyone outside. Good. Better that her father was puttering in the barn or the house instead of working outside on this rainy day. Even at eighty-two, George Stanton often had to be reminded to slow down, reminders that he usually cheerfully ignored.

  Traffic in town was unexpectedly busy for a weekday afternoon, and Abby had to park around the corner from Siebert's Jewelry. She held the box close to her body as she hurried through the rain to the recessed entryway. She paused to close her umbrella before pushing open the elaborately carved door with an oval window of etched glass.

  Inside, there were no customers. A woman she didn't know was industriously polishing a glass display case with a cloth.

  The heavy carpet underfoot discreetly muffled footsteps. The display cases were brightly lit from within, but the track lighting overhead was muted except for small spotlights on targeted items. Fresh bouquets of flowers—no doubt from Island Blooms, her sister Mary's flower shop—stood on two counters. Gems sparkled everywhere—rings, necklaces, bracelets and pins—and mirrors behind the glass-front cabinets mounted on the walls reflected dazzling colors.

  Gordon Siebert, a tall, slender, sixtyish man with thinning gray hair, was rearranging items within a central display case. Small rounded glasses gave him a scholarly look, but the goatee and mustache added a surprisingly suave air. He gave her a pleasant smile and walked toward her.

  “May I help you?”

  The friendly attentiveness pleased Abby. She had been to the store before but never bought anything. She doubted that today she looked as if she were here to buy an expensive diamond ring, but Gordon acted as pleasant and interested as if she were.

  “I hope so. Although I’m not here to buy anything,” she added hastily not wanting to give a false impression. “I have a piece of jewelry and I’m wondering if it was purchased here.”

  Abby pulled the box out of the plastic bag and set it on the glass top of a display case. “I’m Abby Stanton, Associate Curator out at the nature conservatory,” she added. She held out her hand.

  “Yes, I know,” he said as he shook it. “My wife keeps telling me the museum has some wonderful exhibits and that the bird walks at the conservatory are most interesting. I’ll have to get out there one of these days. Oh, and this is my assistant, Judee Arcuta.” He motioned to a young woman polishing a glass case.

  The slender blond woman lifted her fingers in a friendly miniwave. Abby nodded back to her and opened the box.

  Gordon Siebert peered into the box. Abby had no idea what he was expecting, but the sudden widening of his eyes behind his glasses told her he was surprised.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DO YOU RECOGNINE IT?” Abby asked.

  “No, no I don’t. It wasn't purchased here.” Gordon Siebert spoke without a trace of doubt. He glanced up at her, and she had the feeling he was reevaluating her and that he was much more curious than when she first walked in the door. She could almost see questions hovering like comic strip balloons over his head.

  Quickly she said, “We’re thinking the blue stone may be a sapphire. Although it's more likely just a nice piece of costume jewelry.”

  Gordon walked over to a shelf below a discreetly concealed cash register and returned with a small object about the size of a remote control. He pushed a button, waited a few moments, then pressed the tip projecting from the instrument against the blue stone. Almost instantly a tiny beep sounded and a small light glowed green.

  “What is that?” Abby asked.

  “It's a tester.” He peered at the instrument with a small frown, as if perhaps considering its reliability.

  “It can tell if this is a real sapphire or glass?” Abby prodded when he didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

  “This is not a sapphire,” he stated with the same conviction with which he’d said the necklace had not been purchased at his store. “But it's certainly not some cheap imitation.”

  “Then it’s…?”

  He pressed the tip of the tester against the blue stone again. The beep and green glow repeated. “It's a diamond. The instrument tests thermal conductivity, and diamonds have a much higher thermal conductivity than other gems or imitations.”

  Abby didn't know much about thermal conductivity, but she did know what she could see. “A diamond ?” she repeated doubtfully. “But it's blue.”

  “Diamonds can come in various colors, although the colored stones are much more rare than the clear ones. The blue color comes from tiny amounts of the element boron that were incorporated into the crystal as the diamond was forming.”

  “God can create beauty in the most unlikely ways, can't He?” Abby marveled.

  The jeweler's narrow eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’ve never thought of it in exactly that way, but I suppose that's true.” He touched the instrument to the blue stone again, as if he still couldn't quite believe what it was telling him. “Definitely a diamond.” He sounded awed, and Abby suspected Gordon Siebert did not awe easily.

  “And the other stones, the ones that aren't colored?” Abby asked.

  Gordon placed the tip of the instrument on each of the clear stones surrounding the central stone. Each time it made the distinctive beep and glowed green. “Diamonds.” At random, he touched some of the tiny stones in the entwined strands of the necklace, the ends of the strands joined by a golden clasp. Each one, tiny as it was, also registered positive. “All diamonds.”

  While Abby was still trying to digest all that, he went to the shelf and returned with two more pieces of equipment. One Abby vaguely recognized as a jeweler's loupe. He held it to his eye and studied the gems. Then he used the other instrument, which had a round face with numbers on it and calipers extending from one side. He placed the calipers on each edge of the blue gem.

  “What does that do?” Abby asked.

  “It measures the width of a gem in millimeters, which can then be roughly translated into carats. For exact carat weight the gem would have to be removed from the setting and weighed on a scale, but this gives a close approximation.” He moved on to a measurement of the smaller, clear diamonds surrounding the blue stone.

  “So?” Abby asked.

  “The smaller stones around the blue diamond are about a half carat each.” He took a deep breath, as if he found it hard to believe what he was going to say next. “The blue diamond itself is approximately twenty-one carats.”

  Abby gasped. “Twenty-one carats,” she echoed faintly. Plus several more carats of uncolored diamonds. Valuable. Very valuable. And, at the moment, all her responsibility. Then a hopeful thought occurred to her. “Perhaps the blue color makes the stone less valuable than a regular diamond?”

  Gordon smiled as if that were a naïve question. “Oh no. If anything, a blue diamond is more valuable, because of its rarity. And
this one is an exceptionally deep blue color, a ‘vivid’ blue I’m sure it would be classified. That isn't just a nice term,” he added. “It's a specific color classification. The very best for a blue diamond.”

  He hesitated a moment and then, with what sounded like careful delicacy, as if he were reluctant to pry but too curious not to, asked, “This is a, ah, piece of family jewelry?”

  “No, I’m just… holding it for someone.”

  He eyed the card lying in a corner of the box. “Someone named Claudia?”

  “We were hoping, if the necklace had been purchased here, that you’d know who Claudia is. Even though the necklace isn't familiar to you, would you happen to know anyone by that name?”

  “Let's see . . . I remember a Claudine applying for a job here once. But no, no Claudia.”

  Abby held back a smile. Gordon Siebert was so curious that even his mustache twitched. At this point, however, she was even more uncertain what to tell him or anyone else. “The necklace must be fairly valuable?”

  Unexpectedly, this time Gordon laughed. “‘Fairly valuable’ is an understatement if I ever heard one. Just off hand, I’d estimate this necklace is worth, oh, at least three million dollars.”

  “Th-three million dollars?” Abby stammered, stunned. No wonder he’d been so delicate in his question about whether the necklace was family jewelry. She undoubtedly did not look like someone who would personally own a three-million-dollar necklace. Her blue slacks and jacket were nice enough, but they didn't come from some exclusive boutique, and her bluebird earrings were more whimsical than valuable.

  She peered over her shoulder, half expecting to see an eavesdropping thief or thug creeping up to snatch the necklace, but the only other person in the room was the clerk, Judee, now polishing a mirror.

  “It's possibly much more valuable than three million,” Gordon added. “Actually, I’m being quite conservative with that figure. I’d have to do a considerably more intensive examination, plus some research on current values of large blue diamonds, to give a more accurate figure. I know that Harrods in London had a large blue diamond set in an elaborate diamond necklace for which they were asking sixteen million.”